


A Commission

by Sineala



Category: Points - Barnett & Scott
Genre: M/M, Yuletide, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-01
Updated: 2009-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wonder how Eslingen got that promotion in Coindarel's Dragons?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Commission

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thermidor for Yuletide 2008 as a last-minute treat; the prompt suggested "backstory," so I wrote some. Thanks to Lysimache for beta!

Philip Eslingen knew exactly how he earned his promotion to lieutenant. On his knees in Coindarel's tent. And, well, later on his back, too, but after the first night it was more or less assured. It was amazing that Coindarel's Dragons worked as smoothly as it did given that his commander's main criterion for most of his subordinates was their physical beauty.

He had slowly become aware of the man's interest in him. It was nothing so crude as prostitution, nothing like what the other soldiers whispered about Point of Hearts in Astreiant. Not that he would know; he'd never been to the royal city. It was only that -- over the season, he'd noticed Coindarel watching him. Him, a bastard from Esling, son of a whore, a nobody who didn't even know all his stars, but even as a sergeant he had a snap in his voice that the raw recruits obeyed without even thinking. And he wasn't a bad hand with weaponry, if he did say so himself. Maybe Coindarel was more perceptive than they all gave him credit for.

It happened one night just outside of Darnais. He was tending to his horse. It was silly to think of the horse as "his horse," for truly he owned little besides the clothing on his back, his pistol, and his tablets of the gods to pray to. But the horse was a beautiful roan, a bit skittish, bold, one of those geldings who hardly even knew it, and besides, someone had to take care of the horses. It was as he was currying his horse that the messenger from Coindarel came up on the other side of him, so silent he wouldn't have noticed except for the gelding's whicker.

"Senior Sergeant Eslingen?" The boy's voice was confident, and Eslingen finally looked up.

"Yes?"

"Coindarel to see you in his tent."

The request was pitched low. Anyone within earshot certainly knew enough to know the rumors about Coindarel were true, and there was no shame in it. It was how the world worked; not everyone confined themselves to their true leman, were they lucky enough to find him. And in the meantime, those that hadn't found theirs could amuse themselves as they saw fit. But that didn't mean it needed to be cried about the camp, either.

Sometimes he wished he had a leman. Someone to love, confide in. It was a ridiculous thought.

But for now, this was enough. It had to be.

He gave the gelding a final pat on the shoulder and followed. A commission, eh? Who'd have thought he would be so lucky? For surely there was no other reason for Coindarel to have summoned him. He knew, of course, that he was pretty, but he had been wondering if he was pretty enough for Coindarel. There -- that was that question answered.

Coindarel's tent was large, richly appointed. He'd suspected it would be from the outside, of course, but he'd never before had any reason to go in. Not for the likes of sergeants like him. But a sergeant earning his promotion? Oh yes.

Coindarel himself was also much as Eslingen suspected. The man in his armor was much like the man out of it. Even lounging across extravagant cushions, looking across the tent at him, the man was every inch a warrior. Tall, burly, imposing. Commanding. Charismatic. Men wanted to do what he said.

So when Coindarel smiled at him, made a few polite, inane remarks, and then stroked the back of his hand lightly along Eslingen's cheekbone, he knew this for an order.

Eslingen sank to his knees and obeyed.

He was glad that his task was not an unpleasant one. Had Coindarel been loathsome, it would be much more difficult. But as it happened, the man was almost caring. He could pretend that the fingers twining in his hair were stroking him in love, not in an effort to guide his head. It could have been much worse. It wasn't that bad. He'd done worse for much less of a reward, after all, and so he made every effort to excel.

After Coindarel groaned, the only sound he'd made the whole time, and came in his mouth, Eslingen, focusing again on his own body, was surprised to find that he himself was aroused. He was even more surprised when Coindarel reached for him, pulled him to his feet, worked a strong hand through the layers of clothing.

The rumors hadn't mentioned that detail, he found himself thinking helplessly as Coindarel's hand stroked him, firm and sure. He hadn't thought he'd end up enjoying the promotion himself.

The commander smiled at him, squeezed tighter, and Eslingen came in his hands, breathing hard. He managed a smile back at him.

"I've been watching your performance, Lieutenant," Coindarel said, after a long moment, and at first Eslingen didn't quite know what he meant, a lapse that ought to appall him seeing as how there was no other reason he could be here. There was no one else here, so why did the man call him Lieutenant...? Oh.

Eslingen colored. "I am honored, sir."

Another smile now, a kind, real one. "Would you be available tomorrow night to discuss the details of your commission? And, perhaps, for some nights following?"

So this was how it was going to be, was it? And, if he was any judge, there'd be more than just a discussion going on. "I am at your disposal, sir."

He was smiling as he left the tent.

* * *

Nico's arm around him slackens as Nico pulls away from the cuddle to stare him full in the face. "You made lieutenant by doing _what_?"

Eslingen shrugs helplessly and grins a ridiculous, abashed grin at his leman. "I should have thought the what, or rather the who, was fairly clear from that story."

Nico is still looking at him wide-eyed, and Eslingen leans in and kisses him just as the clock strikes.

"I must have told you that before. I can't believe I didn't--"

Nico shakes his head.

"They don't go for that sort of thing among the pointsmen, do they?"

Nico is still shaking his head, mute, looking faintly scandalized, but then recovers, pulling him up, taking him by the hand, leading him to the bedroom. His grin in the half-darkness is knowing. "Want to make senior lieutenant?"

Eslingen tumbles him to the bed and laughs, pressing kisses to the hollow of Nico's throat.

"Can I possibly talk you into captain?"

"Mmm," Nico says, laughing. "You can try."

After that, very few words are needed.


End file.
